you lookin' kinda cute in that polka dot bikini
by singsongsung
Summary: NS. Oneshot. The ways Serena and Nate break up and make up in the summer of 2010.


**A/N:** Title comes from LMFAO. I don't own anything. Reviews are love.

* * *

**you lookin' kinda cute in that polka dot bikini, girl**

**

* * *

**

The first time he sees her after they break up, she's wearing the smallest shorts he has _ever_ seen. They're peach-coloured PJ bottoms with vertical white stripes and lace around the openings for her legs – and beneath them her legs go on and on forever, tan and lean.

Just like the last time they saw one another, they're in a hospital. Only this time it's the middle of the night instead of the afternoon, it's not a joyous occasion but a horrifying one, and they're in Prague.

It's been two weeks. Nate has spent forty-two straight hours sleeping, has had sex with approximately ten girls, and has had coffee with Dan once. He's decided, now that he's had some time to think, that it's not Dan's fault or Serena's fault or anyone's fault, really – but that doesn't mean it sucks (hurts) any less.

He hugs Blair first (because she's shaking and pissed off and her voice is doing that scary thing where it gets sharper with each sentence) and gives her his sweater (because she's standing there in nothing but a flimsy nightgown and sandals).

"Is he okay?" he asks quietly.

"I don't know." Blair stomps her foot and presses her lips together until they turn white. "I don't _care_."

That is the statement that forces him to look over at Serena, to share a knowing glance with her, because Blair is so obviously lying.

Serena sighs, glancing back at Blair. "My mom will be here soon, and we'll know more then…"

"Did you not hear me?" Blair's voice peaks at a point as sharp as a shard of glass, and Nate sees his wince reflected on Serena's face. "I. Do. Not. Care."

"Right." Serena tugs her into a half-hug, Blair fitting neatly underneath one of her long arms. "I know," she soothes – convincingly, as if she truly believes what Blair's saying.

Nate looks away from them.

He hates the ways they play pretend.

* * *

Nate spends a week in Prague. He visits Chuck everyday. He does a little research and snooping to see if he can locate the thugs who shot his best friend. With a _bullet_. His head is still reeling from the very thought, never mind the fact that it really, truly happened.

He does not stay at the same hotel as Blair and Serena (and Lily and Eric, once they arrive). He hardly sees the girls, except when they run into each other in the hospital's halls. He chills with Eric for a few hours here and there, and one night he does take Blair out to dinner. During the meal she talks to him more honestly than he thinks she's ever spoken to him before, mostly about Chuck; she lets him in on everything that's happening and a lot of what she's feeling, even though she insists that she is not crying, she just has an eye infection since she's barely been sleeping recently.

Late one night, Serena brings him a cup of crappy hospital coffee. He says _thanks_ and she says _you're welcome_, and that's the end of that.

* * *

Fate, he decides, is pretty cruel.

He doesn't really talk to Serena, so they never really discuss each other's travel plans – he only hears whispers from Blair about how Serena's planning to head back to the States soon, while Blair stays on in Prague for a while, to "ensure that Chuck does not commit anymore idiotic acts".

And that's how Serena ends up on his flight.

She arrives to the gate late, of course, a whirlwind of blonde hair and expensive luggage, an apologetic smile on her lips. The other passengers turn to stare, to look at her as she explains her tardiness to the all-too-understanding man currently inspecting her boarding pass. Nate doesn't look at her; he turns around and walks onto the plane, but he somehow still notices how she's not wearing any makeup and her cheeks are getting freckled like they always do in the summertime and that the brown skirt she's wearing beneath her lacy white shirt looks like it's made of soft fabric.

He throws his backpack into the overhead bin and settles into his seat – he's got the aisle, so he waits for whoever's in the window seat next to him before really getting comfortable and buckling his belt up.

It's Serena. Of course.

She looks at his face and then at her boarding pass and then at the number over the seat before her gaze settles on his face again. Nate stands up wordlessly and lets her slide past him, bitter that he has to sit next to her when she looks so fucking perfect and that there's clearly no justice in the world since she even gets the _window seat_.

Takeoff is bumpy. Nate stares at the back of the seat in front of him while Serena looks out the window, at the clouds around them and the ground below. They hit an air pocket, and for a moment he loses his center of gravity. In his peripheral vision, during that moment, he watches the way Serena's fingers wrap around the armrest, her knuckles turning white.

He doesn't do anything, though; it's not his job to hold her hand anymore.

They're an hour into the flight when Serena gently yanks his earphones out. He keeps his eyes on the little screen embedded into the seat in front of him instead of looking over at her. He could probably watch a movie without hearing any of the dialogue or music. They used to make silent films, after all.

"Nate."

Her voice is soft and familiar and it feels wrong, that she can say his name now and that it sounds the same way it did muffled against his pillows.

She's silent for a few seconds, giving him time. But he doesn't answer, and then she says it again, "Nate." After several more seconds of quiet, she adds, "You're really not going to speak to me?"

He can't look at her. He _can't_. If he does then he'll think of that Ivy Mixer back in high school, and how the hurt in her eyes then probably matches the hurt in her eyes now, and how they've blown so many chances that it was stupid of him to believe that they'd ever work out – looking at her, it'd be his undoing.

There is a tiny hitch in her breathing then, and he exhales fast as he blurts, "What's there to talk about?"

She winds the cord of his headphones around her fingers and doesn't say anything.

Finally, he snatches the gossip magazine she was reading off of her lap.

"What – "

He huffs, annoyed at her and annoyed at himself. He flips pages rapidly as he tells her, "I'm gonna read you your horoscope."

He still doesn't look at her, but he can _feel_ the warmth of her sudden smile.

* * *

In Manhattan, they go their separate ways. Nate goes back to his official summer routine – girls and liquor and the occasional phone call to Dan.

There's no answer, even though he phones Dan twice on his cell phone and once on the number for the loft, and he gets a sinking feeling in his chest when he realizes Dan might be out somewhere with Serena.

* * *

There is an earthquake in New York.

It's not that big a deal – it's a 5.5 on the Richter scale, similar to the one that hit Canada just a few days earlier; it causes minimal property damage and not a single injury.

Nonetheless, Nate feels the rumble of the ground, even up on the twenty-somethingth floor of The Empire. He gets out of bed in only his boxers to look at the window, to stare down at the ground. The girl in his bed smokes a cigarette while she waits for him.

Almost twenty minutes later there's a knock on the door, and Nate assumes it's just one of the Empire's employees checking in, so he's shocked to see Serena standing in front of him.

She's wearing a pretty green dress and flat linen shoes and there are wisps of hair coming loose from her braid. They stare at each other for a couple moments and Nate doesn't mind, he just drinks in the look of her.

"Hey," she finally murmurs. She looks just as surprised as he feels. "I just…I don't know. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

There's something like fading panic in her eyes and he doesn't understand it (she broke up with him).

"I'm fine."

She smiles, hesitant as she corrects him teasingly, "You're _lazy_," with her eyes taking in the way he looks, boxers and messy hair.

"Yeah, well…" He doesn't say much but he can't help but smile back.

"Listen," she begins, inching a little closer, "since I'm here…"

The girl steps out of his bedroom in nothing but her lacy underwear. She looks at Serena, curious but unapologetic, as she calls, "Nate? You coming…?"

Serena's face closes off then, losing all of its friendliness and hopefulness and going blank, but not before he sees the quickest flash of unadulterated heartbreak play over her features.

"I shouldn't have," is all she says before she whirls around and walks away.

Nate says Serena's name in bed and the girl he's with doesn't seem to notice but he makes her leave afterward anyway.

He can't stop thinking about it. She had no right to stand in his doorway and look at him like that, as though he was betraying her.

* * *

He storms over to her suite on a rainy night.

"_You_ broke up with _me_."

She's sitting on the couch, drinking lemonade and reading a book that she sets aside when she sees him. Incredulously, she asks, "Are you _drunk_?"

"No. Maybe. A little bit." She's got this delicate look in her blue eyes, and he hates it; it's unfair. "You hurt me. You can't keep acting like I hurt you."

Serena doesn't move. "You did hurt me," she says quietly.

"I didn't _want_ to. I was trying to…to protect you."

"Nate, this isn't the time to talk about – "

He sits heavily on a chair, suddenly tired. "I think I love you too much."

Her mouth snaps shut.

"Can we skip this part? The part where it hurts and it's hard and it's not the time to talk? We've done this already."

"Nate," she pleads, a tremor in her voice.

"It doesn't fix anything." He wishes she'd understand. "You can leave or you can break up with me but it doesn't change anything."

She looks down, but not before he catches the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "Maybe you deserve better."

He shakes his head. "Can you just…let me? Can it just be okay for me to love you?"

"You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying." She stands up and crosses her arms over her chest. "You should go home."

"I walked here." He doesn't want to walk back.

"I can tell." She runs her fingers gently through his rain-soaked hair. "I'll get Arthur to drive you back, and when you get home you need to put on something dry, okay?"

"Serena." He touches her wrist; her skin is so soft.

She freezes. "What?"

"Are you with Dan?"

All of the tension in her body seems to seep away. "No," she says, and he knows she's telling the truth.

"Why not?"

She sighs as her fingers slip into his hair again. She lets him lean into her, his head against her abdomen. He closes his eyes.

"Because I think I love you too much," she says simply.

* * *

He brings her croissants and Audrey on a Sunday morning and her sleepy smile looks like forgiveness.

She doesn't even make him watch _Tiffany's_.

* * *

She's not his girlfriend anymore but it's still his responsibility to make sure she has a good birthday. Eric's at Elliot's cottage, her mother and Rufus are in Tobago, her best friend and her stepbrother are still in Europe. He's the only one who's even _with_ her, and he knows he has to make this birthday the best one ever.

He does some organizing. He finds a place that delivers awesome helium balloons. He goes to a florist and finds a pretty bouquet. He buys a double-chocolate cake. He already has a present, an anchor-shaped diamond necklace he purchased while they were dating on the stupid assumption that they'd still be together by mid-July.

He calls Chuck to get permission from security for late-night access to the family suite. He wraps up the box the necklace is in and sticks a candle into a cupcake; he wants to surprise her exactly at midnight.

She's in bed, asleep, so he perches on the mattress and makes sure not to frighten her. He whispers _happy birthday_ as she slowly comes awake.

"Nate?" she whispers back as she sits up, blinking slowly.

"Hey." He holds out the cupcake, careful to make sure that the flame of the candle comes nowhere near her hair. "Make a wish."

She smiles at him in the flickering light before she leans forward a bit and blows out the flame.

"What did you wish for?" he teases. Her room is dark now, save for the pale glow of the moonlight coming in through the window.

She doesn't answer.

But she does kiss him.

It's this slow, lingering, _perfect_ birthday kiss, her mouth moving in easy rhythm with his. He savours it, lets himself sink into and drown in the feel of her. And then she lays back against the pillows, taking him with her, still kissing, as she kicks her blankets aside.

He groans into her mouth as one of her legs hooks around his hips. He didn't plan on this happening tonight, but she's beautiful and stretched out beneath him in nothing but a silky little pyjama set and god, he's _missed_ her.

"Nate…" she sighs as he trails his lips down her neck.

"Shh," he says against her skin, slipping his hands beneath her shirt.

She reaches between their bodies to unbutton his pants.

They don't talk after that.

* * *

When he wakes up in the morning, Serena's standing by the window in a robe tied closed tightly. Her eyes are red, like she's been crying.

"I want you to go."

He sits up, confused. "What – "

"It was a mistake. Last night shouldn't have happened."

"Serena." He blinks. "C'mere for a minute, let's just talk about it."

"No. It was…stupid." She won't look at him. "I want – I want you to leave."

He can't catch up, can't understand what she's thinking. She shouldn't be crying, especially not on her birthday, and he feels guilty but he doesn't know why this is happening – his memories from last night are good ones, her giggling and the quiet way she moaned his name, the incredible feel of her and the way they got so perfectly tangled up in one another.

"Nate. _Please._ I want you to go."

"Serena," he tries in a gentle voice.

But she walks into her bathroom and slams the door closed behind her and he knows she won't come out until he's gone.

So he goes. He leaves her gift and he still sends all the other things – cake and balloons and even flowers, but he hears nothing from her for the rest of the day.

* * *

He finds out from Blair that Serena left for the Hamptons on her birthday.

"Your girlfriend is at her grandmother's summer house," she says.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Technicalities, Nate." He can practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Get on the Jitney," she orders.

* * *

He doesn't know how she knows when he gets there – maybe from Blair – but two minutes after he steps off the Jitney his cell phone beeps and the text message reads:

_about time, Archibald. _

_

* * *

_

A couple days later he arrives at Cece's house at half past seven in the morning. Serena is sitting on the back deck in an old nightie, her tangled hair thrown into a ponytail and her bare feet resting on another chair. There's food spread across the table in front of her, but most of it appears untouched.

She looks at him, bleary eyes and sunshine smile.

"Hey, Natie," she says.

He smiles back and she moves her feet off the other chair so that he can sit down. Reaching over, he takes a long drink of her mimosa.

"Ew," she teases softly as she watches him. "Backwash."

Nate's smile widens. He grabs a fork and cuts a piece of off a crêpe; around his mouthful, he tells her, "I'm helping you eat your breakfast."

She looks more relaxed, then, rolling her eyes and finishing off her drink. He tries very hard not to wonder if their mouths touched the same places on the glass.

Neither of them eat the strawberries, but they don't talk about why.

* * *

"Naaaaate."

"Mmph," he responds, burrowing further into his blankets.

'Nate." Something hard and square hits his arm. "Wake _up_."

He doesn't open his eyes as he groans, "Why?"

She tugs on his ear. "It's past noon, sleepyhead."

"It's summer. I'm relaxing."

"_Nate._" He can hear from her voice that she's pouting, which isn't really fair. "We have to go."

"No, we don't." With a sigh, he finally opens his eyes, drinking in the sight of her. Her skirt is ocean blue and her skirt is white, flimsy enough for him to see her pink bikini top through it, and he wonders, "How did you get _in_ here?"

She smiles triumphantly. "Your staff loves me."

"Of course they do."

"Up and at 'em," Serena insists. She's standing by his bed, and he knows she's hesitant to actually sit on it.

That bothers him, so he sits up and reaches for her, wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her toward him.

"Nate!" she squeaks, and it feels like a mistake instantly when his hand grazes her breast and her knee digs into his thigh. She's breathing quickly and he's already half-naked and she's on his bed and he could so easily slip a hand under her skirt…

Serena licks her lips and ducks her head shyly, and Nate makes himself focus.

"Why," he begins, tickling her ribs lightly, "have you barged into my room at this ungodly hour?"

She looks at him through her eyelashes (and she's too beautiful, right at that moment; he can't fault himself for missing her). "Book Club," she says, pointing to the two identical novels sitting on his nightstand. "If you don't get up we're going to be late."

"Book Club?" He latches onto the idea, the familiarity and the comfort of it, even as he whines, "_Again?_"

"For real, this time," she says insistently.

They both freeze when she says that, and he flashes back to two summers ago, her hand linked with his and the citrus-y smell of her hair and the way she'd always share his wicker chair, all cuddled up to him, to how real it was even when it was pretend.

He wants to go back to that day in the hospital and say _no, no breaks, no breaking up – don't you know how long it took us to get here?_

Serena digs her teeth into her bottom lip. "We're going to actually read the books this time, I mean."

Suddenly he's annoyed with her, and annoyed with himself, but it's summertime and she's _Serena_ and on his bed, so all he does is whine, "That's too much work for the summer."

"So, what, you're going to sleep all day everyday?"

"Yes?" he asks optimistically.

"Na-a-te."

"Se-re-na."

Her lower lip pokes out and her hands tangle in his sheets.

He echoes her expression and her eyes widen.

"We have to be productive or B will yell at us in September," she says.

"You're not scared of Blair."

She smirks. "But you should be."

He gasps at her but he doesn't have time to reply before she's hopping up off his bed and throwing a t-shirt at his face.

"Get dressed," she says as she saunters out of the room, taking both books with her.

Nate gets up a moment after she leaves and pulls on a pair of shorts. He's always followed her. There's no reason to stop now.

* * *

Eric comes to the Hamptons for a week, and he brings Elliott with him. Serena bounces on the balls of her feet as they wait for the car to pull up.

"I'm so happy that he's happy," she says, her voice as soft and as warm as the summer breeze.

Nate looks at her, at the way her hair is messily braided and the way the evening shadows play over her face, highlighting her cheekbones.

Somehow, in that moment, she looks younger.

He wants her to be happy, too.

* * *

The entire time Elliott and Eric are there, Nate's whole life feels like one endless double-date.

He and Serena accompany the boys on shopping trips and sundae-making missions and dinners with Cece. Nate takes Elliott to his favourite lake to give S and E some alone time to hang out.

A few times, he casually tries to excuse himself, but every time Serena looks right at him and says, "No, I want you to come."

"Why'd you do it?"

It's three o'clock in the morning, or maybe even later. Eric and Elliott are passed out on the carpeted floor, soundly asleep. Nate and Serena are sitting at opposite ends of the couch. There's a movie on the TV but the volume's turned down so low that the dialogue is no longer audible.

"Do what?"

"Break it – _us_ – off."

She curls into her side of the couch. "Nate…"

"Tell me why. Why'd you kiss Dan, why'd you say you needed time when – "

"_Nate._" The sharp note in her quiet voice halts his words. "This isn't the time to talk about that."

"I think it's the time to talk about it." He is stubborn, but he makes sure to be calm about it.

She won't look at him. "This is hardly the time, it's only going to be…to be upsetting for – "

He cuts her off fiercely: "Don't _do_ that. Don't give me the Lily van der Woodsen treatment, S. I fucking deserve better than that."

Wearily, she runs a hand over her face. "I'm going to bed." She walks behind the couch on her way out of the room, linger near him for a moment. "Goodnight, Nate."

He doesn't reply.

* * *

Serena reads a lot.

In Book Club they read _The Time Traveller's Wife_ and _The History of Love_ (both of which are really good books, in Nate's opinion, except for the fact that they are totally girly), but Serena gets sort of obsessed with Fitzgerald and Kerouac and Garcia Marquez.

She reads on the law a lot, lying on her stomach with her legs kicked into the air, or on a floatable mattress in the pool, or sitting on the beach with a huge umbrella providing shade and her toes buried in the sand.

"Well," says Cece, her eyebrows arched regally, "this is certainly one of your better summer habits, Serena."

Nate hides his smile at that comment, but secretly he wonders why she's started reading so much so very suddenly. He wonders if she's trying to escape him.

* * *

He goes back to the city for a couple days at his mother's request.

To his surprise, Serena tags along.

She exchanges flip-flops and bathing suits for a slim-cut white skirt and a fluttery black top. She puts her hair up neatly and wears heels and makes perfect small-talk with Anne all through dinner.

When Serena leaves the room to powder her nose Nate watches his mother spin the Vanderbilt diamond around on her finger.

"Mom," he warns before she can say a word.

She sighs wistfully. "Oh, Nathaniel."

Afterward, he sits on the steps outside with Serena, waiting for Arthur to drive over and pick her up, even though it's only a couple blocks to her building.

"What are you _doing_?" he asks her. He feels tired and lost.

Serena pulls the pins roughly out of her hair, lets waves of gold tumble down onto her shoulder.

"I don't know," she whispers.

It sounds like she might be crying, so he doesn't ask her to stop.

* * *

She brings two grande lattes to the steps of the Met. They sit together and sip their coffee as they watch the sunset.

Nate is very careful not to sit close enough to touch her. He says, "I did not sign up to be your Blair replacement for the summer."

"What _did_ you sign up to be?" she giggles.

* * *

Back in the Hamptons, they get competitive over croquet.

"You hit that _twice_!"

"I did no such thing."

"You did!"

"Did not!"

"You cheated."

"Did _not_."

Nate drops his mallet to the ground and extends his hands outward helplessly. "Will you _ever_ let me win!"

She pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head and punches him very lightly in the stomach.

"Eventually," she says.

Her smile is soft and fleeting.

* * *

One afternoon Nate goes to meet Serena for Book Club, and Cece waves him out into the backyard.

Serena's lying outside, half-asleep in a lounge chair. She's wearing a bathing suit he recognizes from two summers ago. It's a black string bikini, help up with perfect little bows that are just _begging_ to be pulled loose. She looks like sin, like sex, her hair all tousled and her lips pink and glossy and her cheeks flushed pink from the time she's spent in the sun.

He turns around and leaves her yard, walks straight into town and flirts with a pretty redhead.

They spend the whole day together, and she invites him to a party that night, and he whispers, "Let's go to your place," into her ear after he's lost count of the number of beers he's chugged.

She gives him a sultry smile and a nod, so they leave, and they have sex on top of her pink-and-white striped comforter, and Nate tries really hard not to think of Serena.

That doesn't mean he succeeds.

* * *

Serena gives him his space – that's one thing that she's always been good at.

When she finally does show up at his house, she brings him his favourite kind of smoothie (unfair) and she's wearing terrycloth shorts that barely cover her ass (very unfair) and a Manchester United shirt of his from forever ago (_super_ unfair).

"You missed Book Club."

"Yeah." He feels like crap. He wants to touch her; he misses the way she feels.

She takes a sip from the straw before she hands over the smoothie. "Why?"

The cup is too cold in his hands. He stares down at it as he mutters, "Sometimes I hate you."

She doesn't move. She doesn't seem surprised.

"I know," she says, like she understands.

* * *

"She's just…" Nate starts to whine and then stops, unsure of how to finish his sentence. He struggles to find words.

Chuck sounds amused. He does not ask who Nate is talking about when he prompts, "She's just _what_?"

"She's, like…incapable of clothing," he declares. She wanders around in tiny little _everything_, exposing miles of tanned legs and perfect, long arms and cleavage.

Nate notices. And he notices the way _other_ people (men) notice.

Even over the phone, Chuck's smirk can be felt. "You know she'd never turn you down, Nathaniel."

He frowns, thinking of her birthday and the way she'd been with him, limbs all wrapped around his body and desperate kisses, and the way she'd looked the next morning, like she'd been torn apart.

"That's not the way it works," he decides.

"Fuck her and get it over with."

Nate laughs, and he misses his best friend fiercely even as he says, "Don't say that about my girlfri – my – Serena," he finishes lamely.

Chuck laughs, clearly still amused, but he mercifully changes the subject.

* * *

The day Serena's grandmother buys her a horse, the two of them go riding together. He sits behind her in the saddle, cautious about how he touches her. The soft black leggings she's wearing are tucked into her riding boots and her shirt is yellow and long-sleeved. He wraps his arms around her waist tentatively, lets his hands rest against her stomach. He realizes that they match – his surf shorts and yellow-and-black plaid.

The sun beats down. He can feel his pulse, or maybe Serena's, or maybe both.

He leans into her and whispers, "Spoiled brat." He still can't believe that she just showed up in his yard today, full of energy and the casual declaration of _oh yeah, Grandma bought me a horse_.

She giggles and he feels the way her abs tighten up beneath his fingers and it's kind of really hot.

"I love her," she sighs, content, and pats the horse gently.

_Love me_, he thinks but does not say.

Instead he asks: "What will you call her?"

"I think…Willow." She slouches back a bit, leaning into his chest.

Daringly, he lets his lips linger on her neck, at a point just below her ear. "That's pretty."

She sighs again, tilting her head to give him better access. His heart is pounding (or maybe hers is). "Nate."

Willow moves at a steady pace, weaving through trees; Serena's hold on her reigns is loose. He doesn't want to ruin this moment, wants to hang onto it for as long as possible.

"Shh," he murmurs, letting his lips pressed against her neck a properly this time. He wraps his arms around her a little more securely.

"Nate, I – "

He stops her with a kiss, and her mouth opens against his immediately, no hesitation whatsoever. He doesn't know where they're going anymore, doesn't really care, all he knows is how much he wants her. One of his hands drifts upward, skimming over her chest, and that's when he feels the outline of a thin chain tucked beneath her shirt. She's wearing a necklace.

Serena breaks the kiss the moment he discovers it, looks at him with bright and troubled eyes. He's not sure how he didn't notice it before; he finds the chain where it rests against her neck and tugs it upward.

The charm on her necklace is an anchor.

It's the present he gave her for her birthday.

She doesn't speak so he doesn't either. They are silent the entire ride home.

* * *

Outside the stables, he dismounts and reaches out a hand to help her off the horse. He still doesn't know what the right thing to say is.

When she's standing in front of him, she says, "I want…for us to be friends."

He stays quiet, still. Being her friend means not being her boyfriend. Being her friend means loving her in only certain ways. Being her friend can be painfully exhausting.

Serena takes his lack of response as an answer. She breathes in sharply and leads Willow away.

* * *

Days ago, before the moment Nate wishes had never happened, he promised to attend Cece's garden party.

So he shows up, linen slacks and a pale blue blazer. He doesn't know many people there, other than his parents' friends, so he befriends the bartender and sticks close to the alcohol.

Serena shows up dateless, which surprises him and makes his heart leap in a completely unfounded way (was he supposed to be her date?). Her dress is sky blue, _almost_ the colour of his blazer, and short, cut low in the front and _very_ low in the back, and her shoes do wonderful things to her legs.

(She hurts his eyes.)

He misses the days when she'd greet him with a long, deep kiss and all of a sudden he'd be the envy of at least half the guys in the room.

"Grandma said I should say hi," is how she greets him.

"Manners." Nate finishes his drink in one smooth swallow. "Awesome."

He feels the way she bristles beside him and knows that he's hurt her.

"Well." Her voice is crisp and blank. "Have a good party."

Nate looks at her and goes to speak – possibly to mention that he _will_ have a good party, he saw a pretty girl earlier; though it's more probable that he'll just apologize.

But then he sees her necklace. _His_ necklace, that he gave her, sitting on her skin like it belongs there.

Fuck.

Cece is there, suddenly, with two of her friends, and suddenly he's shaking hands and smiling while they coo over how beautiful Serena's become since they saw her last.

"Oh," one of them says, a hand to her heart, "what an utterly _precious_ couple you two make."

"Oh, _yes_," the other is quick to agree.

Next to him, Serena goes totally still, and he feels his polite smile falter.

"Henriette," the first woman says to her companion. "You'll have to leave the name of that amazing wedding photographer." She winks at Serena. "You'd look like such an angel in a white dress."

Nate does not, _does not_, think of another garden party two summers ago, her hair and her dress and her _mouth_, her sympathy and the sparkle in her eyes that accompanied _you totally can_. He just doesn't.

Henriette nods enthusiastically, misty-eyed as she regards them. "Cece," she sighs, "just think of how gorgeous their babies would be."

He makes sure to exhale slowly. He doesn't know what his heart is doing all the way up in his throat, but he'd really like it to go back down.

Serena reaches for his hand. Her nails dig into his palm.

"Yes," Cece says, her tone even and airy, "They're quite the pair."

"Thank you," Serena tells the woman, her voice a subtle echo of her grandmother's. "But…marriage, and…"

"Babies," Nate fills in for her with a quick, boyish grin at the woman. He holds tight to Serena's hand. "Those are pretty far off."

Henriette smiles sagely. "Time sneaks up on you, young man."

If Serena holds his hand any harder, bones will break.

Cece grants them an escape: "Serena, darling, will you go inside and check with the caterer to make sure everything's running smoothly? Take Nathaniel with you."

They say their goodbyes and as they move away, Nate breathes, "Whoa," very quietly, trying to break some of the tension.

As soon as they're out of sight, Serena runs. She flees from him, from the party, from the yard – her shoes kicked off along the way.

Nate does not go after her.

* * *

She crawls into his bed, shaky and shivering, her skin cool from the night air. She's wearing pyjama pants and a polka-dotted tank top, no sweater or shoes; she presses her ice-cold feet against his calves.

"Did I ruin us?" she asks him quietly.

She's curled up to him and they fit together just like they always have. "No," he tells her.

Her eyes glimmer in the darkness. "We were friends before."

"I loved you. Then. Before. I loved you, then, too."

She props herself up on an elbow. "But you…you pretended not to."

"And you let me."

"Yeah." She bites her lip. "Why can't we pretend again?"

Nate sighs heavily. She's still shivering, so he sits up and folds his arms around her. "It hurts too much, now," he says against her hair.

"I ruined us." She presses her face into his chest, shuddering. "I wish we could pretend forever."

* * *

In the morning, he tickles her feet to wake her and makes them Eggos and lends her a sweater and walks her home.

She hugs him tight at her door and it feels like _thank you_.

* * *

They are friends.

(They pretend again.)

It is movies in town without sharing their popcorn, horseback rides on separate horses, and days spent at the beach during which Nate does not stare too long when Serena strips down to her bikini.

He does not miss Book Club meetings ever again.

* * *

Serena's second idea for a summer activity is to take dance lessons.

She signs them up, without his permission, for classes in West Coast Swing. It's high-energy, complicated ballroom dancing, and it's a lot of fun, but it feels like something of a conspiracy when Serena's standing there in snug shirts and flirty skirts and their teacher is yelling at them about _finding the passion_ and he has to touch all of her bare skin.

* * *

He fights back with, "Let's go bike-riding."

When they stop to rest, comfortable and still laughing about a joke he can no longer remember, he pulls off his shirt and dumps an entire bottle of water over his head.

Serena suddenly becomes very interested in the ground.

Nate doesn't feel quite as triumphant as he expected to.

* * *

Friendship becomes easier.

They go for a walk on the beach in the evening in light sweaters and bare feet. Serena keeps pausing to pick up shells and sea glass.

"She sells seashells by the seashore."

Serena smiles at him and dares, "Say it five times fast."

Nate tries. And fails.

There's still an ache but it doesn't sting quite as much.

* * *

Some mornings they read the paper together.

Nate reads about sports and Serena reads the reviews for movies and theatre and music albums. They fight over the comics and skim the news stories. They both ignore the business report.

Those mornings make Nate miss the future, fill him up with a longing for days that haven't even happened yet.

That, he thinks, should be an impossible feeling.

* * *

They get tipsy off margaritas in the mid-morning and watch _EuroTrip_ three times in a row.

Nate has _Scotty Doesn't Know_ stuck in his head for the rest of the summer.

* * *

The second time they make drinks they get pretty drunk, drunk enough to think that sliding down the banister in Nate's house would be so much fun, not drunk enough to actually go through with the idea.

"How's Dan?" Nate asks awkwardly. His throat feels thick.

Serena blinks at him. "Don't know."

He squints at her, uncertain. "No?"

"No."

They both fall asleep on his bedroom floor, but not before they text Chuck and Blair all the lyrics to _Midnight Train_.

* * *

Chuck replies, _fine, if you insist, I will not stop believing_.

Blair's response is, _you're awfully ambitious when you're wasted_.

Over their breakfast of hangover food, Serena grins. "Those two," she sighs fondly, shaking her head a little.

Nate tries to smile back. Blair is back in France, staying with her father and Roman at their vineyard. Chuck is still in Prague, dating some girl. Sometimes he and Serena laugh at how silly they are, making sure to stay so far away from each other.

He wonders if Blair and Chuck ever talk, if they ever laugh at how silly Nate and Serena are, taking time apart but still spending the whole summer together.

* * *

He sees the redhead girl he slept with at the beach. She waves.

Serena splashes him. "What're you gawking at?"

Laughing, he splashes her back, "Nothing."

* * *

They figure it out, how to pretend again – most of the time, anyway.

Serena makes an effort, but she does it very casually. They hang out one day, inside because it's threatening to rain. Serena comes over to his place in shorts and a brown belt and one of his t-shits knotted under her breasts, and she is just his friend.

She turns on MTV and they spend hours and hours just watching the screen. They talk, at length, about what great legs Katy Perry has. They eat obscene amounts of buttery popcorn.

Nate has Lady Gaga songs playing on loop in his mind, but it's worth it when Serena falls asleep with her head on his lap.

* * *

They stay late at Book Club, curled up in their chairs.

"Look," Serena says, pointing outward, toward the sky. "A rainbow. Make a wish."

Nate laughs low in his throat. "You don't wish on rainbows, S."

She puckers her lips. "You _should_."

He looks at her and he can't breathe. "Serena."

"Yeah?" Her voice is slow and lazy.

"My dad wants me to visit him."

Nothing changes but her eyes, which are suddenly more alert. "Oh."

"Yeah." He blows out his breath.

"Will you go?" she asks gently.

He's quiet for a moment and then he asks, "Will you come with me?"

She doesn't even think about it. "Yes."

* * *

"This book is _amazing_."

Nate looks at the novel she's just thrust into his hands.

"Amazing," she repeats.

He stares at the title – _On The Road_ – and he thinks that Serena needs to read _The Wizard of Oz_, needs to realize that there's no place like home.

He wraps an arm around her and lifts her off the ground. Through her squeals, he says, "Let's go to the city."

* * *

They don't go home, but they do go to his family home in Connecticut for a change of scenery. His grandfather and a lot of his cousins are there. Nate takes his usual room and Serena's given a guest room and they settle in.

His family seems to assume they're still together. Neither of them bother with correcting that assumption.

Nate sneaks a peek of what Serena's planning to wear to dinner on their first night there, and he picks a tie to match.

* * *

One afternoon they're playing doubles tennis against Nate's cousin Claire and her fiancé – they're losing, which Nate blames fully on Serena's tennis outfit: a tight, white minidress – and a black sedan pulls up into the driveway.

Maureen steps out of the passenger door and a moment later, Tripp gets out on the driver's side.

Serena's face goes the colour of her dress. She drops her racket and murmurs something about feeling sick and then she walks quickly toward the house.

Nate tries to smile. He tells Claire, "I guess you guys win."

He does not look at Tripp.

* * *

"Don't go," he tells Serena. She hasn't come out of her room for a day.

He's relieved to see that she hasn't packed yet, but he hates the way she seems unsteady.

"I can't see _him_," she whispers.

Nate sighs and sits on her bed next to where she's lying under the covers. "I know."

She looks lost and strangely small. "What do I do, Natie?"

Gently, he pushes her hair our of her face. "Stay here. Stay here and show him how stupid he was to do that to you."

"What about Maureen?" she whispers.

"Serena." He lets his hand linger against her cheek. "You didn't want to be Jackie O. anyway."

Her lips curve into a grateful smile and she lifts her blankets invitingly. "Will you get in here? Just…to lay with me."

Nate does not need to be asked twice.

* * *

At dinner, Serena flirts with him, not in an over-the-top way, but pointedly. She leans into him and smiles at him, holds his hand on top of the table, rests her cheek against his shoulder, whispers into his ear and kisses his cheek. Nate plays it up with her because he knows that's what she wants, but he has a tight feeling in his chest the whole time.

This is what he's been reduced to – a tool to be used to make Tripp jealous.

Nate thinks Tripp _should_ be jealous, even without Serena's constant, quiet giggles. She's wearing one of her very best dresses, midnight blue and strapless and the skirt of it moves with every step she takes. Her hair is pieced together in a bun and she's got bracelets dangling off her wrists and her laughter is polite but still bright enough to light up the room. She even lets Nate finish her chicken, sliding her plate toward him and asking sweetly, "You want this, baby?"

It occurs to Nate, halfway through the meal, that Tripp knows what Serena's like beneath this façade. He knows what her body looks like underneath that dress. He probably knows what her laugh sounds like when she's really, truly amused. Maybe he even knows her secrets, like how the charm bracelet on her left wrist was her father's grandmother's, and that Serena's had it since she was three years old.

Nate looks right at his cousin with unapologetic eyes when Serena whispers sweet nothings into his ear, watches the way he averts his eyes and adopts his politician's face.

(He kind of wants to make Tripp jealous, too.)

* * *

She drinks too much, but Nate doesn't realize that until it's well past midnight and he finds her in the kitchen searching for shot glasses.

"Hey," he says gently, watching her move around.

Serena does not quit her search or even bother looking at him. "I thought I loved him." She slams a cupboard door shut. "Did I ever tell you that?" Hands braced against the countertop, she stares down at the marble surface like it will give her answers. "How stupid am I, huh?"

"You're not," Nate says quietly, unbuttoning the collar of his button-down shirt.

She lifts her face and looks at him with empty eyes. "You never used to lie to me."

He doesn't bother replying to that, just reaches out to her and says, "C'mon. Let's go outside and get some air."

In the backyard, he directs her toward the old tree with a swing hanging from one of the branches – it was her favourite place in the garden when she was younger.

"Nate." She stops and pouts at him. "I'm dizzy."

He laughs a little, just because she's adorable, and then sweeps her into his arms princess-style. "Is this better?"

She nods, slipping her arms around his neck, and he walks to the swing, sitting down with her on his lap. She leans her head against his shoulder and for a while he just listens to her breathing.

Nate doesn't know what to say. Finally, he offers, "It's not worth it."

"Oh, Nate." Serena lifts her head, and he knows she's still drunk, but there is all the clarity in the world in her forget-me-not eyes. "I really love you."

There is a moment of complete silence and then she whispers, "How stupid am I?"

* * *

Nate wakes her up just after the sun rises.

"I know," he says when she bats his hands away. "You're hungover."

"So go away," she replies, her voice hoarse.

"Come on, S," he cajoles. "We're getting out of here." He's going to rescue them both.

Her eyes fly open. "What?"

"We're _leaving_," Nate declares. He's already dressed and ready to go. "So get up."

"Leaving?"

"Serena." He laughs and pulls her blankets away. "Let's go."

She finally listens to him, and she leaves in only her PJs and the charm bracelet she was wearing the night before, her hand in his. Nate picks a car from the huge garage – it's cherry red and it looks like it will go fast.

Serena gets into the passenger seat and waits until they're turning out of the driveway, onto the road, to ask, "Since when do you know how to drive?"

Nate makes a face. "Kind of…since…never. But it can't be that hard, right?"

Ten minutes later, he crashes them into a tree.

He turns to look at Serena, stunned and horrified, because this, a _car crash_, is the absolute worst thing he could do this weekend. She doesn't look hurt at all (thank god), but he still can't believe –

But she looks at him and she smiles and laughs and, "What a fucking mess we make," she says.

* * *

When they're back in the city, having arrived safely by train, Serena accompanies him on his visit to his father.

Nate hates going, hates the prison and the guards and all the efforts that are necessary to get in and all the awkward conversations he has with the Captain.

She takes everything he hates in stride, the process of signing in, of handing over keys and cell phones. She keeps close to his side but she never seems worried or scared, and the moment they see the Captain she unleashes that sunny smile of hers. When Nate is at a loss for words, she carries the conversation, talking up his experience at Columbia and what a great summer they're having.

The moment his dad walks into the room, Serena's hand falls to Nate's leg, and she leaves it there the whole time.

* * *

On the hottest day of the summer, Serena tans on the rooftop while Nate swims laps in the nearby pool.

Her bikini is white and _miniscule_ and he sneaks peeks at her when he comes up for air.

When he gets tired enough, he hoists himself out of the pool and tracks water over to the chair next to hers before grabbing his towel.

"Stop that," she murmurs, smiling just a little bit.

"Stop _what_?" he asks breathlessly. It is so fucking hot out.

She pushes her sunglasses down her nose and squints up at him. "Staring, Nathaniel."

His head spins and in a moment of total confidence, he braces a hand against her chair on one side of her body, and uses his other hand to trail his knuckles over her collarbone and downward, tracing a path through the valley of her breasts and then toward her bellybutton. Her skin is impossibly warm, deliciously warm, and he's too hot to _think_ – but he'd be okay with getting burned.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" he asks her.

She meets his gaze and bites her lip, but she doesn't say no.

* * *

They go out on a Tuesday night, and he watches her on the city sidewalks in the fading sunlight, thinks hazily that she walks like poetry in motion.

They get caught in the rain, their hair and clothes and skin all soaked, and he catches her gaze just as lightning cracks through the sky.

Serena returns his kiss with just as much hunger.

* * *

She crashes at his place, in Chuck's bedroom, and when he gets up in the morning he sees her standing in front of the fridge, her lips puckered as she considers the contents.

"Hey, you," he greets her appreciatively, rubbing at his eyes.

She glances at him and smiles. "Put some clothes on, Archibald," she says, taking in the look of him in just his boxers.

"You're one to talk." She's in one of his t-shirts and a pair of knee socks.

Tugging at the hem of the shirt she's wearing, she says, "Nate, I told you, I need…time."

He leans against the counter and gives her a measuring look before he shrugs, completely casual. "So take some time."

Serena looks a little shell-shocked. "What do you mean?"

"Who's stopping you, S? You've had all summer to take some time, but you won't leave me alone. You must have realized that by now."

She tucks her hair behind her ear shyly. "I just…can't. Not…again."

Nate pushes away from the counter and moves toward her, follows the path of her fingers with his own: over her cheek, behind her ear, down her neck. "You don't need time," he tells her softly. "You know that."

Her eyes are wet. "I can't have ruined us, if I did then I really do ruin _everything_, and I – "

He cuts her off with the softest of kisses. "Come to bed, Serena."

She braces her hands against his shoulders and pushes him away. "Natie," she berates him.

There's a warning in her eyes but he can't take it to heart. "Look at you," he says, almost a growl. He slides his hand down the side of one of her thighs. "Knee socks," he adds in a murmur. They shouldn't be such a turn-on, but she could probably wear a paper bag and he'd still want to rip it off her.

"I should go home," she sighs, one of her legs hooking around one of his.

Nate slips his hands under her the hem of her (his) t-shirt and presses his forehead to hers. "I love you."

Her hand moves to the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. "That's not fair, Nate." She closes her eyes and her lips brush his.

He smiles into the kiss. She loves him, too.

* * *

She doesn't stay, and she won't come to bed with him, won't even agree to go out for breakfast – she leaves, but she only goes home.

(She never really runs away and he's sure that has to mean something important.)

* * *

He takes her sailing.

And it feels like every other summer, the wind whipping her hair into her face, and her cheek resting against his shoulder – water on every side of them, stretching on forever, and the sky a perfect mix of blue and white overhead.

Serena stands on deck in bare feet, wearing a bikini and an old pair of Daisy Dukes, a sweating bottle of beer in one hand. She takes a long drink, eyes closed, and then holds the bottle out to him, one of her eyelids falling in a wink.

Nate wraps an arm around her and kisses the shell of her ear. "You know the exact way to my heart," he teases, finishing off the beer.

She giggles but her eyes are solemn. "You think so?"

He nods. "Know so."

* * *

There is only one bed in the cabin on the _Charlotte_, and when Nate goes below deck shortly after midnight, Serena is already cuddled up beneath the blankets. He kicks off his shorts and peels off his shirt and joins her without hesitation.

She curls up to him and smiles against his shoulder. "I would have missed you too much," she whispers against his skin.

Nate wraps her up in his arms – it's hot but he doesn't care – and kisses the tip of her nose. "I always miss you too much."

They're quiet for a while, listening to the silence and the occasional sound of lapping waves.

"It's kind of weird," Serena whispers. "We're all alone out here." She pauses and then adds, "Kind of wonderful, too." She tilts her chin up to look at him.

Nate grins at her in the darkness. "Doesn't feel so lonely to me," he agrees.

For a moment she just watches him, eyes roaming over his face, and then she hikes up the hem of her nightgown and straddles his hips, leans down and kisses him, a kiss infused with everything she hasn't been able to say (everything he's always heard anyway).

He sits up a bit underneath her, his hands frantically pushing her nightgown off of one of her shoulders.

"I love you," he whispers to her in between kisses.

Her head falls to his shoulder and she whispers back against his neck: "Don't stop. _Don't stop._"

The sailboat rocks lightly on the ocean's waves and Serena's hips rock against his, and he surrenders to the feeling.

* * *

He stirs when she does, blinks his eyes open slowly. "Morning, gorgeous."

She smiles and her eyelashes flutter as she bumps her nose against his. "G'morning."

* * *

Serena blasts music on deck as they sail back toward New York, spins around on the deck, moves to the beat of the soundtrack from some old movie that they probably watched together once upon a time.

_I know, it's up for me, if you steal my sunshine…_

"What _is_ this?" he laughs as he ties a knot.

"It's our song," she says decisively.

"Oh, _really_?" He moves toward her. "How come you get to pick our song?"

"Because I have better music taste."

He rushes his last couple steps toward her, hands extended to tickle her. "Take that back," he threatens.

"Nate! No! Nate! Stop it! _Natie!_" she giggles, squirming against him as he traps her in his arms. "_Nate_."

"Yes?" he asks innocently, smiling at her.

Something changes in her eyes, something soft and sweet emerging.

"I love you, too," she says.

* * *

They get high, and now that they're older he finds that she is less giggly and silly and more insightful. She thinks about the future and about Brown and missed chances and misjudgments. He loves the sound of her voice; it is a soundtrack he could spend his whole life listening to.

"What am I good at, Natie?" she asks him, lying on her stomach on the floor.

He's lying facing her, and he looks into her eyes very seriously.

"Baby," he says. "_Everything._"

* * *

Back in the Hamptons for the last hurrah of summer, he watches as she brushes Willow in the stables.

"We should talk," he suggests.

"About what?" She plants a hand on her (bare) hip. He looks forward to and also dreads the wintertime, when she will actually wear something other than denim shorts and bikini tops.

"You and me. This wasn't really a break for us."

Her eyebrows rise and she puts the brush down, turns to face him. "Maybe I planned it that way."

Smiling, he says, "You shouldn't have planned it at all."

Serena shrugs. "It wasn't so bad, was it?"

Nate hops down from where he's sitting and rests his hands on her hips before slipping them into the back pockets of her shorts. It wasn't so bad, but that doesn't mean he has any desire to repeat the experience. He kisses her, and when he pulls away her eyes are still closed.

"Will you marry me?"

Blue eyes fly open. "Not funny."

"Kinda funny."

She shakes her head. "Nope."

"Will you…let me buy you ice cream?"

"Yes," she says with a small nod, like she's doing him a favour.

"Will you…be my girlfriend again?"

She bites back a smile. "Yes, you idiot."

"Will you…marry me _someday_? You know your grandma and Henriette will be _so_ disappointed if – "

"Nate!" She slaps at his shoulder and then tucks himself into his arms. With a soft sigh, she repeats, "Not funny."

He grins against her cheek, tells her softly, "Not really supposed to be."

* * *

Serena goes to Brown.

Nate says his goodbye on the sidewalk out in front of her building. (Blair is going with her. Nate knows if he were to step foot on the campus he'd somehow convince himself to stay.)

"Bye," she whispers as they embrace one last time. She presses her mouth to his and lets the kiss linger.

"Bye," he echoes. He forces himself to smile at her.

"Don't _look_ like that," she pleads. "I'm gonna come back."

"I know." Nate nods. "And you'll have an awesome time there. Brown won't know what hit it."

"Serena!" Blair calls, poking her head out of the limo.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." She smiles at him and gives him a little wave as she backs away. "I love you."

"You, too," he tells her quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

She blows him a kiss and ducks into the limo; Nate lifts a hand to wave goodbye as it pulls away from the curb and into city traffic.

But only a moment later it stops, moving back toward the curb, and Serena steps out.

"Hey," she says.

Nate prepares himself to give a pep talk – she can do this, he _knows_ she can, she just has to believe it to, but then all of a sudden she's tucked in his arms and breathing against his neck and he forgets all the words he meant to say.

That's okay, though, because she's got word of her own.

She tilts her chin up and kisses him lightly and tells him (promises him): "I'm gonna back back for _you_."

* * *

**fin**


End file.
